The Worst Kind of Truth
by sweet-sue-sparrow
Summary: Dean had been sent back to hell and Castiel, now human, was powerless to save him. Now Dean has emerged from the pit quite different from the man Castiel once called friend. Black eyed and full of hate for the one who left him in the pit, Dean seeks out Castiel with his mind set on revenge.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** This is my first ever time writing fanfic and it may just be a one time thing. It doesn't have to be. If it works and you would want to read more, please say so!

"You aren't Dean." Even as the words left his mouth he wished he hadn't said them. Now the fear that was nagging at the back of his mind, the fear that was already asserting itself as a truth, would have to be spoken aloud.

The demon smiled, a black-eyed smile, Dean's smile but fundamentally wrong. "Come on Cas, really? After all this time, have you forgotten what I look like?"

"No." Castiel hung his head. It was true. Even now, human as he was, deprived of so many senses, he knew. It was true.

Dean stepped past the motel bed to where Castiel stood against the wall. He was so close now that his breath brushed warm against the former angel's cheek. "Did you miss me Cas?" That gruff voice, laced with honey and poison, slipped from the demon's lips- Dean's lips, which were now brushing Castiel's face. "'Cause I missed you. I waited for you Cas. I thought you were gonna come down and grip me tight, like you did before." he was breathing the words, soft and deadly, into Castiel's ear. "And, how did you put it- _raise me from perdition_?"

Castiel was pressed as close as he could get to the wall. He was shaking. Those black, bottomless eyes seemed to suck the life out of him. He wanted to tell Dean that he would have saved him if he could, that he had been only human. Helpless. That that feeling was worse than hell could possibly be. "I'm sorry," was all he could manage.

"Sorry?" Something like hurt, like betrayal had entered Dean's tone. Castiel felt his gut wrench. The voice was so familiar. "You left me in Hell Cas. You left me to burn. I thought-" He paused, smiling now, sadism etched in every line of his face, "I thought you loved me Cas."

At that, a cold shiver ran down his spine. How many times that thought had lingered in his mind, never finding words. How often he had watched the hunter, feeling something rise in his chest like words unspoken, only to shove it down again and tell himself that it was hopeless, that it was wrong.

"You know what's funny about that, Cas?" He leaned in to whisper in his ear, allowing his lips to trail along Castiel's jaw on the way. The points of contact tingled long after the touch was gone. "I loved you too."

Despite the imminent danger, Castiel's heart skipped a beat. His breath caught in his throat. Just as quickly the feeling died. It was the verb tense that killed him. _Loved_. Dean was gone; he could not _love_ again.

"I never would have admitted it," Dean continued, "Or maybe I would've. Eventually. I told myself it was wrong, two dudes. I was too man for _that_." He was still whispering, dragging his lips back along Castiel's quivering jaw. "But now, now I just don't care."

That was when Dean did the unthinkable. He pressed his mouth softly against Castiel's. The former angel gasped as he felt Dean's tongue trace the outline of his lips. He felt a sudden surge of pleasure override his fear, nearly driving him to disappointment when Dean pulled away, trailing saliva.

"You like that Cas?" He laughed Dean's laugh. "It's a shame. This is all going to end with me killing you. But first we're gonna have some fun."

Castiel nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt Dean's fingers tracing the slope of his neck, finding his shirt collar, finding the knot of his tie.

"I'm going to make all your dreams, all your little secret fantasies come true. And then," Dean stepped back a little, black eyes twinkling with malice, holding Castiel against the wall by his knotted tie. With the other hand he reached down to his belt, tapped something fastened there. "I'm going to take this knife and stab you in the heart. I'm going to watch the light leave your eyes, Cas."

Castiel breathed heavily, his chest rising and falling against Dean's clenched hand. All the longing that had forced its way to the surface during the kiss had been suppressed again by terrible, paralyzing fear.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Well, I was going to work on a novel this summer, but instead here's another chapter of this. Enjoy!

"So before that happens let's have some fun." Dean grinned and began to untie the knot by which he had been holding Castiel. The strip of blue fabric fell away. With a flick of the wrist, Dean let the trench coat slide from Castiel's shoulders to pool on the ground.

"Dean, please," Castiel breathed as Dean's hand, occupied with the buttons of his shirt, brushed his bare chest. "This is not you."

Those black eyes flashed. "Oh but Cas, it _is_ me. This is the new Dean Winchester and believe me, I know you've imagined this before."

It wasn't entirely untrue. In the same way his heart had jumped irrationally, traitorously at the touch of Dean's lips on his, it did so again, and there was a faint stirring in his gut, urging him on. He licked his lips nervously.

Dean smiled. "See Cas, you can't hide it!" His hands began to fiddle with Castiel's fly.

It was at that moment that, despite the insidious stirring in his belly, Castiel began to form a plan by which he might escape. He very carefully did not look at the knife at Dean's waist. He continued to stare, with fear and desperation into his old friend's face. It wasn't a forced look; he still hoped he could get out of this by appealing to the man.

"Dean," he pleaded, "Do you remember how you died?"

Dean's hands paused, his fingertips brushing slightly the thin fabric of Castiel's boxers. "Of course I remember. You screwed up, I tried to save you. Then I got killed." That voice was rough as sandpaper and seemed to tear at Castiel's heart. How he wished he could end this conversation; let Dean undress him. But he knew how that would end, and he did not want to die. He needed to stall just long enough to get his sex drive under control.

He stared into those dark, demonic eyes, trespassers in Deans soft face. But they weren't trespassers. They were all that was left. "Dean, you died for me, doesn't that mean something?"

The demon -Dean- pursed his lips. "Quit stalling Cas."

"I'm not-"

But then Dean's hand was against Castiel's thigh, tight against his boxers, and it was too soon and his breath caught in his throat and all his plans slipped away and something between his legs, something he had never given much care to before, responded to the touch.

"You can't stall the inevitable forever, Cas." Dean's voice and Dean's hand were the only real things in the world. "I thought I could escape Hell, but look at me now. And you, you just won't stop dying. You can't get out of it this time."

_Get a hold of yourself!_ Castiel scolded himself internally. He struggled for breath, for clarity. He still had to escape; he could not let Dean have his way. He might be human, he might be weak, but he wanted to live.

"Dean," he allowed a note of weakness to slip into his voice, and in the same breath he fell a little closer to the hunter.

The demon grinned widely. "I knew you'd come around Cas," he half shoved, half helped Castiel to the bed. "Even now I'm a generous guy, I just couldn't bare to let you die a virgin."

Dean, satisfied it seemed, that Castiel was going nowhere, turned his attention away in order to take off his shirt. That was all the time Castiel needed to prepare himself. His head was clear, his muscles tense. Now was his only chance at saving himself, and, if he was lucky, Dean too.

And then, despite being human, despite being only in his boxers, despite the feelings of desire that still tried to assert themselves, Castiel leapt into action.


End file.
